Author: admin

I was in this gay bar. The first time I had ever gone into such a place. I was explaining this to the flamboyant queen who sat on my right. He/she didn’t believe me. ‘Oh Honey, I’ve heard those stories before. You are as pure as the driven snow.’

My name is Keith Brandon. I just turned sixty years old. I don’t feel sixty. I very healthy and fairly energetic. But when I pass a mirror I don’t see the young me, I see a dignified, almost completely gray ‘gentlemen’. How I hate that word. I’d rather look like a piano mover, sloppy and fat.

My wife died two years ago. I didn’t seem interested in finding another woman and I guess I went back to the sexual being I was before I was married. I was young, very good looking; built like a brick shit house, and I was hung and hungry. I must have had sex at least twice a day. I never had a moments difficulty in finding a hot partner. But the second time around, it is completely different. Let me give you an illustration. There is a peep show house on the highway leading out of town. There are about twenty booths. Inside you can chose gay or straight movies to watch. You can stay as long as you wish, except you have to keep feeding dollars in the craw of the machine.

When you put in your money a red light comes on over the door.

That means the booth is occupied. If you want privacy, you can latch the chain across the opening. If you want company, leave the chain off. I went there a few times but it was really depressing. I sat on the bench, stroked my not insignificant cock and waited. There were some great looking dudes. They would come in, peek around the corner at me and then leave. Obviously they wanted young stuff.

Here I was a that gay bar, telling the old queen more or less what I told you. She/he actually seemed sympathetic. I even noticed a small tear form in one eye, unless the mascara was bothering it (I mean the eye.)

I got so maudlin that I reached into my pocket, took out my billfold and exhibited a picture I had of me in the Navy. ‘Oh my sweet cakes, you were gorgeous. How old were you in this picture?’ I told her nineteen. ‘I was once nineteen myself, Cora over there said I was a drummer boy in the Civil War. But that’s not true.’ He/she leaned over to me. She was quite drunk I think but how could I judge I was halfway to passing out myself. ‘Confidentially Cora is six months older than me.’ I asked her how old Cora was. ‘Oh no your sly puss, I’m not going to give you that information. After all, I have my reputation.’

I looked over at Cora. While Sal (the one next to me) resembled a blowsy senior citizen who went crazy in the makeup department, Cora was slim, still glamorous, looking a bit like an old ballet dancer. There was something sinister about her. She was the witch in Cinderella.

Sal excused herself: ‘To tinkle,’ she said coyly. As soon as her barstool was empty, Cora moved in. She stuck a perfumed cigarette in her rhinestone studded holder, which was 15 inches long, and put her head in her hands and stared at me. ‘How would you like to make a pact with the devil? A pack that could make you nineteen years old again.’

‘Aw right,’ I slurred, my elbow slipping off the bar. ‘What do I have to do, give up me soul?’

‘No all you have to do is give me oral sex.’

I flinched. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘Even to be young.’

‘W-e-e-l-l’ I started to say then I blanked out or passed out. I was a little aware of Cora, much stronger than I would have imagined, carrying me out to a taxi. ‘Where are Sal?’ I asked ungrammatically.

Cora hushed me and said I gave her the longest piss you has ever had.

She smoothed my forehead. Actually it felt nice as long as I didn’t open my eyes and look at Miss Sunset Boulevard. At my apartment building she called the doorman. He and she helped me up to the elevator and then my apartment. Everything is very dim in my mind. I remember Cora undressing me. ‘Very nice,’ she muttered, ‘For an old bastard. Big meat too. I wonder if it still works.’

I vaguely remember a sixty nine. Not Cora’s age but the actual act. I was so drunk I really didn’t care.

‘Bye Honey. I’ll just get my wrap and be off.’

I must have been ten hours that I slept but it was worth it. I felt excellent, full of energy ready to take on the world. My jaw was a little sore, as if I had opened it too wide for one of those big sandwiches. Anyway, I got up and did what every guy does first. I headed to the bathroom to take a piss. I had a very stiff, morning hard on. I can’t remember having this piss problem since I was a kid. I pushed it down but then I sealed off the pipe. The only thing I could do would be to stand on my head because the dick was hard against my stomach. Now that was peculiar. The last decade or so I have been looking my up-tilt in favor of a downward tendency. ‘Oh well,’ I thought, ‘I’ll forget the piss for the moment and take a shower. I slipped off my tee shirt and underwear shorts and got the shower on to warm up. I looked down at my feet. Hey I never noticed what very excellent feet I have, no corns or bunions, nicely trimmed nails and cute little hairs on eye toe. ‘Hairs!’ I said aloud. My toe hairs disappeared many years ago along with the hair on my lower legs. Lower legs! The hair was abundant and glossy black, even on my knees. I hoped I was getting so glandular condition. I scratch my balls. Um, that felt good. I got hard again. I’m as quick to bone up as a teenager I said to my reflection in the mirror. MY REFLECTION! That couldn’t be my reflection. It was me but me, maybe forty years ago or more. My body was as it was then, great round perky butt, narrow 30 inch waist, firm pecs and my old six pack. In addition the skin was the skin of a teenager: glossy, smooth, fine grained…beautiful. And my chest hair, I only had a cute little oval in the center of my pecs. I looked down, only a faint boyish trail led to my pubic hair, not the heavy gray trail I had yesterday. My cock was full, my balls firm. I looked and looked, falling in love for me. Look at my face, no lines, my lips ruddy my eyes bright and my hairline…oh my hairline…it was back with that wonderful widows peak in front that always was envied by my friends. I staggered into the bedroom, sat on the edge of my bed, on my elegant ass, and wondered if I was really aware. I glanced at the bed, there were heavy cum stains, then I remembered weird Cora. She was a witch, but the good witch Glenda, look what she did for me. That turned out to be the best blow job I ever gave.

I hopped into the shower, making nice to my young stud body, soaping luxuriously. As I dried off I weighed myself. I am about 6 feet tall and yesterday I weighed a paunchy 200. Today the scale stopped at 172.

My clothes were too old for me and definitely too loose. I did the best I could by tightened up the belt but there weren’t enough holes to keep the pants up snugly. I kept my car in the garage under the building. ‘Hi Joe. Can you get the car up here.’ He called out cheerfully (I tip the hell out of him) ‘The Porche will be right up.’

He looked at me. ‘Who are you?’ I thought quickly. ‘I’m Mr. Brandon’s nephew. Didn’t he say it was OK for me to take the car. Look at have the key and registration.’ He looked at me carefully. ‘Well I’ll have to say there sure is a family resemblance.’ The car came up and he wished me a good day.

It was now getting toward twelve noon. I parked at the Mall and picked out a good youth store: Abercrombie and Fitch. I told the tall blond and gay salesman that I needed a whole wardrobe. ‘I can see that, child. You looked dressed for Halloween.’ He walked around, picked some tops, shorts and slacks. ‘I’d say you are in old fashioned terms a thirty-nine long. We don’t sell suits but that it a quick way of sizing you. Now you take these into the try on room and if you need help, just call.

I’ll wait outside.’

I tried everything on. I looked great enough to eat and I hoped the boys will think so. I had trouble with a pair of orange cargo shorts and I stood in my white boxers and called the salesman in. ‘I’m having a little difficulty here with these.’ He stared at my legs, my crotch.

‘Is something wrong,’ I asked innocently. He started to talk but he appeared to be hoard. He cleared his throat. ‘We have to get rid of those old man’s under ware.’ Then he realized what he said. ‘I mean, as soon as you leave this store, get over to Macy’s and get some bikinis. I wish I could fit you but I have to stay here.’ The kid was actually red in the face and his forehead was moist. He kept one hand in his pocket and you and I know why.

I stopped in the food court for a coffee and one of those tooth-aching buns. Girls and guys eyed me, as I strolled across the floor in my shorts and athletic top.

Afterwards I bought and put on one pair of red bikinis then I retrieved my car and headed…where do you think…the XXX Peeps.

I walked down the aisle between the booths. I heard sighs as I passed. I got a few taps on the ass also. I entered a booth, put on a hot movie about Austrian Boys in the Country. Very hot. Guys seemed to hang out outside of my booth. I guess they thought I was too young and too good looking to chance a refusal. Finally one kid, one of the very ones who curled his lip when I sidled into his booth last week, came in.

He advanced very slowly, not sure I would accept him. People rarely talk, so he jumped when I said, ‘What’s your name.’ Billy he replied.

‘Come on in Billy. Let’s see the goods.’ He was not used to being talked to like that. He was the star of the peeps. Everyone wanted him.

He started to resist. ‘Take ’em off or take off.’ I said roughly. He liked that. I was feeling my power. He meekly slipped his tee shirt over his head. He had a dancers muscles, very nice. ‘And the pants too, boy.’ Down they went, resting on his ankles. He stood only in his Calvins. He looked at me, wondering what was next. I could see some of the others trying to crane to see what was going on. ‘On your knees.’

He looked at pleadingly. ‘It’s all dirty and cummy on the floor.’

‘Ok,’ I said,’ then get dressed and go.’ You could see the indecision in his fine eyes but lust won out. He sighed a shuttering sign and sunk to his knees. He zipped my shorts open, slid my bikinis aside and threaded my already firming up cock out into the open. He eyes it hungrily and then pounced. His young lips moved around the head, his smooth, hot tongue licked the slit. He wet it good and then swallowed the whole nine inches. He moaned while he worked, he went slow, he went fast, he tickled my balls and fingered by anus. I was getting there fast. I decided for the first cum of the day, I would just let it happen and happen it did. I had forgotten how a nineteen year old’s cum is like. It builds and builds and then you almost die as it begins, shot and shots until at last you are finished and feel good and a little sleepy.

I looked down at the kid. He was looking up at me in horror.

‘You fucker, you tricked me. You’re old.’

He ran out and I dressed and looked in the mirror in the men’s room. There was my old self. What Cora hadn’t told me is that I would change to a youth via blow job but the very next one would return me to the age of sixty. I left the Peeps, young guys flattening themselves against the wall so I wouldn’t touch them.

‘Oh well,’ I thought it’s better to have been blown and lost than never to have been blown at all.

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I saw that photograph. I saw it that first evening, when I went in to turn the bed down because Charlene was busy out in reception. I had already figured he had been doing my dad all these years, and it’s something that had come between me and my dad. Not that Dad knew what I knew or at least strongly suspected. But our connection just couldn’t be the same anymore because of it. But seeing that famous author guy, Kincaid, in that old photograph he’d put on his dresser that just set me off. I could have killed him then and there. Putting that photograph there was like he was flaunting it, flaunting his control and his power.

The photograph showed that big elk he’d bagged up in the mountains here. But that’s not all it showed. In the photograph, he had his arm possessively around the waist of my grandfather, who had taken the famous author on that hunt when he was staying at our family’s dude ranch, Wolf Creek. And it showed to anyone who might have half suspected it that the elk hadn’t been the only animal Kincaid had bagged up in the mountains.

I tried to be angry at my dad for also putting up with Kincaid’s attentions all of these years, but I knew he’d done it to keep the family business going. It’s what paid for my college down in Boulder; it’s what was setting me and the rest of the family up for our lives. And J. Harvey Kincaid, the famous author of those men’s novels on male bonding and ‘man against the elements,’ was the main patron and pull for our celebrity dude ranch and had been for decades.

Dad had left me to manage the ranch for a couple of weeks this summer while I was home for college. He’d gone up to a rodeo in Laramie specifically so that he wouldn’t be around to bail me out of tough decisions at the ranch. And Kincaid’s showing up at the ranch was the toughest decision I was faced with.

He came three or four times a year. But he always came when my dad was going to be there and could take him up into the mountains, up near Medicine Bow National Forrest, to hunt elk or so they said. Kincaid had called ahead this summer and I told him on the phone that my dad would be gone then. But here he was anyway. And he wanted to go up into the mountains to hunt elk. And he was the patron of the family business.

So I took him on up. I couldn’t be in two places at one time. So, I left Charlene in charge at the ranch and picked out the most steady of the ranch hands and paid them extra to do what they could to help her out and keep a protective eye on things while I was gone. And Kincaid and I saddled up two horses and headed up into the hills, toward the still-snowcapped reaches of Hahn’s Peak.

I went with the intention of staying my distance, of being polite but standoffish. I didn’t want Kincaid for a friend, and I was afraid that if I could get within striking distance, I’d kill the man for what he’d done to our family. Not just what he did to my grandfather and father but how dependent we’d become on his patronage. I couldn’t see the point of his fame. I’d read the books and seen the movies done from them, and, yes, he was an engaging, persuasive writer. But that macho male friendship and combining strengths and resolves to take on all comers, whether the scenario was the American West or the battlefields of Iraq, got old pretty fast, I thought.

But the longer I was riding around with him up in those deserted hills of magnificent wild beauty, just the two us, with him weaving stories for me in a rich baritone voice that lulled and stroked me to the very quick, the more I could see how he worked on a person. He must have been over sixty by now, but he was still quite a man, the virile, solid, handsome man of power and decisiveness that he wrote about, and for which he had received international accolades for four decades.

The third day we had struck camp in a cottonwood grove next to a racing stream running down an isolated, sheltering ravine and then we’d ridden on up toward the snow line in search of elk.

We found a mud slide instead. Neither one of us got hurt and the horses weren’t any worse the wear for the slide either. But we were filthy. With a hearty laugh, Kincaid challenged me to a horse race down to the crystal clear little lake the stream in our ravine fed into, and off he roared with another laugh.

It wasn’t his horse, so he flew with reckless abandon and was already off his steed and in the lake before I got there. When I arrived I somewhat dumbly said I couldn’t come right in because I hadn’t brought a swim suit and wasn’t wearing anything under my jeans for that matter, and he just rose out of the water and threw wide his arms and said there was no need for such modesty out here in the wilderness. He was buck naked and showed off exceptionally well for a man his age. He tossed out a ‘Real men don’t need swim suits’ at me in that macho voice of his and, challenged to the quick, I stripped down and dove into the cold, clear water.

We paddled around a good ten or fifteen feet away from each other, cleaning the mud off ourselves, as he wove another one of his male bonding stories for me a story of young men starting off in life and those with experience of the world doing so much better than those of limited horizons and narrow views. He told of the story of a young architect, taken under the wing of an older, established one. And how their lives merged and how much their bonding developed the lives and works of both in enriching ways that could never have happened if they’d lived in isolation. I couldn’t help but listen to his story in fascination. I aspired to being a writer I’d shyly told him that several summers ago and I could see parallels. And I fancied I was drawing those parallels on my own.

He suggested a race, a race across the lake. I didn’t think that quite fair, an author in his sixties and a nineteen-year-old athlete who had been ranch handing for the last two months. But this was his hunting trip. He was calling the shots. So, I laughed and asked him what we were wagering on. He said if I won he’d both clean and cook the fish for dinner and if he won I’d have to give him a shoulder rub right there in the lake and listen to another story he was trying to work out before he wrote it. He said all of the riding had made his body sore.

He, of course, won. I surely didn’t like either cleaning or cooking fish, but Kincaid had much more at stake than I did. Or did from his perspective, at least.

So, there I was, that ten or fifteen feet no longer between us. I was standing behind him in water up to our nipples and massaging his back and shoulder muscles deeply. The water was rippling around us and moving us in waves, moving his butt from time to time back against my groin. And I have to admit this was having its effect on me.

Meanwhile, he was unfolding his idea for a story. About a young man who wanted to write about life but who hadn’t really experienced life deeply and fully enough for anyone to take notice of what he put in writing. But then he was taken under the wing of an older, more experienced, far more successful writer. The young man won a scholarship to study with the older man for a year, and the two went off to a tropical island country to work on developing the young man’s writing in private, without distractions. But for months he could think of nothing to write. There was no experience to draw from, no passion from which to write. The tropical island went into chaos. A revolution was erupting around them, and they had to hide out in interior rooms of the house they had let. They went through travails of protecting each other from the threats around them, and they became closer and closer. And they bonded, becoming one. And the young man was writing now. Writing from a wellspring of experience and passion. And after the revolution, when they emerged from hiding, he wrote a Pulitzer-winning novel. A novel enriched by deep experience and passion.

Sometime during the weaving of this mesmerizing tale, the waves were no longer moving us together. Kincaid had his butt plastered into my groin now and had my now half-hard cock encased between his thighs. And I hadn’t even noticed this was happening until he took one of my hands in his strong fingers and wrapped it around his very hard cock, his hand on top of mine.

He was murmuring to me in that sing song baritone voice of his, ‘I know you want to be a writer, Jamie,’ he was saying. ‘But do you really think you have the experience and passion for it?’

‘Yes, of course,’ I quickly answered, trying to take my hand away from his cock, but being held there firmly in his grip. And then, with more thought. ‘No . . . No. Probably not. I do find it hard to decide what to write about. And when I do, it often comes out so naive.’

‘You know what all of the successful men writers have that you’re lacking?’ Kincaid whispered.

I remained silent, afraid of the answer. And my mind focused on my cock being held closely between Kincaid’s thighs and my hand on his throbbing cock.

‘Bonding,’ he continued. ‘That’s the success of my writing, Jaime. I write of the most important things men bonding and taking on the elements together. I live on passion. I need passion for my writing. I can’t imagine that you are different. And I’m eternally grateful for all of the inspiration I get from bonding. And I am a giver. I help those who feed my needs.’

He let that sink in, as his thighs began massaging my cock, making it harden out, and his own tool lengthening and thickening between my fingers.

I was confused. And frightened. And aroused. I remembered that I had come out here with some sort of resolve, but I couldn’t quite focus on what I had resolved. His voice. His strong body. His very presence. His slow persistence. I was melting.

‘Have you ever experienced someone’s lips on your manhood, Jamie? Have you ever experienced the passion of that? I have, and it has inspired my writing.’

‘Uhhh . . . yes,’ I had to admit. ‘Sure, there have been girls . . .’

‘And no men, Jamie? No men? The level of passion and inspiration is entirely different, I assure you. No men?’

‘No, of course . . . well, there was a fraternity party once last spring . . .’

‘And the passion of it? The comparison of the girl and the boy?’

‘Well, I was more than half drunk at the time. But as I recall . . .’

‘Oh, no. You have to be fully there, Jamie. Fully there to make full use of the experience, of the inspiration. Here, let me show you.’

‘I don’t know . . .’ But before I could go further, Kincaid had turned me around in the water, facing him. He had crouched down in the water and my legs were hooked on his shoulders as he pulled my torso into his face. He was supporting me with hands on the small of my back and my shoulders and the back of my head were floating in the salt water of the lake while he gave me a cock teasing and deep-throating blow job like I’d never experienced before, not that I’d experienced much of anything like that before at all, of course.

He was right. I had known nothing like the feel of his lips and warm, moist mouth on my cock. I’d had no experience until this moment worth inspiring writing anything worthwhile. I had no passion. This was more passion than I’d ever felt before. Who was I kidding? Kincaid was the real writer. You had to go through what Kincaid had gone through to be a real writer.

I howled with passion and experience as I shot off all over his face, globs of my passion peppering his face. He laughed and deep-throated me and cleaned me off. And then he was standing in shallower water and forcing my head down to his cock and I gathered a whole new experience and a whole new sense of passion. He was mine, centered on me. Giving himself to me. The famous novelist. The man who could be my mentor. Having passion for me. Moaning and sighing because of what I was doing. Stroking himself inside my mouth, ever deeper, ever more vigorously. Crying his own passion as he jacked off down my throat. Centering himself entirely on me. Giving me his all.

He was crouched in the water then, drawing me into his lap, whispering to me of male bonding of wanting to be my mentor, to help give me the experience and the passion I needed to become a first-class writer. He had his bulbous mushroom cap at my rim, and I was grunting and groaning, letting him know I didn’t do this sort of thing, that I’d never done this before, that it hurt.

‘Experience is pain,’ he was whispering in that persuasive voice of his. ‘Passion is pain. The only good writing comes from pain.’ If I wanted him to be my mentor, we simply had to bond. We had to become as one, to move as one, to share experience and passion. Is that what I wanted?

‘Yes, oh yes.’

Beyond pain was paradise. Passion and paradise and inspiration. Did I want that?

‘Yes?’

Did I want to seize it like a man or work slowly into it, taking the risk of being denied the prize by not seizing the moment, not taking the risk? Did I trust him, love him? Or did I want to second guess my actions every step of the way? Grasp the golden ring or take my lesser chances of relative safety and uncertainty?

‘I want it all. Now,’ I cried in my own world of ecstasy. Grab for that golden ring. Fame, fortune.

‘More pain at first but then more pleasure, deeper passion, richer inspiration,’ he was breathing in my ear.

‘Richer inspiration,’ I cried.

And his cock centered on my hole now, he thrust up violently, strongly as he forced my hips down hard. I screamed and writhed and cursed and cried. He started pumping immediately, fast and furiously. My cries of pain and frustration were turning to passion and new heights of ecstasy. He was laughing and yelling out his joy, his victory. The slushing of the lake water inside my passage was operating as a lubricant and increasing the wave sensation of the fuck. He was making animal sounds, groaning and grunting and moaning and speaking rapidly, telling me of the deepness of male bonding in this way, of his love and passion for me. Forever and ever, til the end of time, as if there was no tomorrow.

I arched my back to him and presented my face so that he could take my lips in his and tongue-fuck my mouth. I was lost in love for him. His now for whatever else he wanted to do as he flowed inside me in three great bursts of virility.

As we rode back up to the camp, he was telling me of plateaus in male bonding and that he couldn’t be sure of my commitment without my showing complete trust in him, my willingness to follow his every lead as he worked on developing my writing. To show that I was willing to be dominated by his will, by his knowing what was best for me.

To prove myself fully his to form, I let him strip me and turn me on my belly on the leather seat of a saddle laid out between and in front of the cottonwood trees. Leather straps ending in metal stirrups were strung out on either side toward a cottonwood tree, and lengths of ropes were tied on each of the stirrups and then wound round a tree and tied at the other end around each of my wrists so that I was held there on the saddle, not going anywhere, denied the use of my hands. Open to him. All of my trust in him.

And then a towering, naked mentor crouched down behind and above me, his thighs encasing mine, and he thrust his cock into my puckered, tilted-up hole and rode me hard to a second ultimate bonding experience. Then he turned me on my back so that my hips were raised up onto the saddle. I particularly felt the bond of this third merging of our bodies, because I could see his eyes. I could see how much he loved me in his eyes. I could see the honesty of all that he wrote and believed about the ultimate goodness of male bonding.

That night I slept in his arms, on a blanket, under the stars, and he side-split me from behind once, twice, three times during that long darkness while I listened to the racing of the water in the stream and the wind whistling through the tops of the cottonwood, suddenly full of experience, inspiration, and passion I’d never even imagined before. His manhooded domination was complete. His cock a veritable battering ram, plowing me hard, caressing the inner walls of my passage, shooting off again and again, slathering me in buckets of his virile juices. J. Harvey Kincaid. My mentor. The man who would bring me to the age of mature, experienced, passion-filled writing. The secret of male bonding. Repeated, deep male bonding.

I woke to the sound of the gunshot in the darkness. The fire had gone out long ago. I was alone on the blanket. I stumbled around until I found him, lying beside the racing stream, a smile on his face. The mentor gone, the experience not to be undone. the passion in question. Inspiration surely there, but perhaps never dared to be inked on paper.

I don’t know why but a deep suspicion, almost a realization, hit me at that very moment, as I looked down at Kincaid’s face, smiling a very self-pleased smile in death. The relevance not very clear but also crystal clear. When my grandfather had died, everyone said it was an accident. In fact, they said it was a accident so often and so distinctly and so loudly that just the saying of it contained the seed of doubting it. He knew the Colorado mountains. He knew you didn’t try to drive over Rabbit Ears pass in January in a snowstorm. He knew. But that’s what he had tried. Right after one of his hunting trips with Kincaid.

I was careful in handing the shotgun. There were going to be suspicions enough in any event. Motive just below the surface, begging to be set free, hidden, but there in plain sight for any damn fool with half a brain to see.

When I had reached the ranch, the deflated body of Kincaid, devoid now of all of its mesmerizing presence and power its malicious soul slung unceremoniously over his horse, I heard immediately that my dad had returned from Laramie and also that the sheriff had been called up from Hayden. I didn’t want to face my dad; I was much more willing to face the sheriff. So I hid until I saw the police cruiser nose through the log gate up the road. In the end, I was saved any suspicion. While the sheriff was driving down from Hayden, he’d gotten a call that Kincaid had left a suicide note at his home in Jackson. He had terminal cancer and considered a slow death unmanly.

That left my dad. I knew he’d ask what happened between me and Kincaid up in the mountains, and I was fully prepared to tell him that nothing had happened, that Kincaid had been withdrawn into himself the entire time and hardly spoke to me at all the whole three days. There was no one to dispute me, and I saw no reason to indulge Kincaid’s last, intentional, I was sure, little victory over the Raven family.

Now there only remained the damning photograph. But I couldn’t find it. When I went to Kincaid’s room to search for and destroy it, all of his things had been cleared out already and sent down to Hayden with his body.

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I live in a small apartment in a small Southern town. I was having some problems with the appliances in the apartment. The toilet was almost overflowing from time to time, and the clothes washer part of the stack washer and dryer was not getting enough water. I called these problems in to the apartment manager. Then I forgot all about them since neither was a huge problem or a terminal condition.

I’d been out partying and was asleep, sitting but slumped onto the arm of my sofa. The party had been a rip – booze, mj and coke, with the usual hot sex accompanying those ‘bad’ habits. A porn vid, leftover from the party, was playing on the tv.

Dreaming, I thought, I felt a slimy, pre-cum leaking cockhead painting my face cheeks, slithering over the lips of my mouth. I extended my tongue to taste the clear juice. ‘Umnh, delicious.’ I opened my mouth to accept the bulbuous helmet past my lips, over my tongue, to the back of my throat, a hairy sack of balls resting on my chin. ‘Aggh, gag, ung, aagh,’ I was gagging on a thick cock.

Oooh! I woke up. It was not a dream. A man I did not know was fucking my face. He had his work pants and tightie whities down around his ankles as he fed me his stalk, sliding it back and forth over my lips, tongue, punching against my throat.

‘Aaaah,’ I breathed, ‘unnngh,’ turning my head to the side dislodging the fleshy hard meat, ‘Easy,’ I said.

‘Let me suck you.’

‘Unnngh, unngh,’ the man with the cock in my mouth grunted. He slipped his dick in and out a few more times, then stopped, holding just the knob end on my lips.

I looked up at him, a handsome guy, young, black. I ran my hands up underneath his brown work shirt, tweaked his nipples while flicking my tongue on his pee slit, swabbing off the steady flow of pre-juice. I curled my tongue around his cock crown, laving it, tasting, feeling, and smelling too the man musk emanating on his meat, in his crotch, the sweat of his wiry pubic hairs and nut sack, lightly furred with black, curly hairs.

I glanced around his body at the tv. A white guy was on his knees taking big, black cock in his mouth and asspussy, being fucked royally on the porn vid.

Moaning, groaning, begging for cock, harder, deeper, faster into him.

Seemed like a good idea to me, but my mouth was powder, hungover dry. I needed a drink. I pushed back with my hands on the maintenance man’s pelvis on each side of his hard, muscular abs – a rock hard stomach, hard like his black cock.

‘Ummmfh,’ I managed to mumble, ‘I want your cock, but I need a drink.’

‘Okay, white pussy boy, cocksucker,’ he said, ‘have your drink.’

I struggled naked off the sofa and staggered to the bar, bottles of liquor, mixes all askew, left over from the party of last night, this morning. I found the tequila bottle, near empty, took it to the fridge with me and found a beer. I tipped the tequila back, followed it with a swig of cold beer, and offered both to the guy who was fucking me and seemed to want more fucking. He followed suit with the tequila and beer.

I went back to the couch where he was now sitting totally naked except for white socks above his brown work boots. As he drank shots of tequila with beer chasers, I fumbled around and rolled a doobie, lit it, inhaled deeply and passed it to him.

‘Umh, yeah,’ he said, and took his hit, passed the joint back to me. ‘That shit makes me horny,’ he said.

‘Me too,’ I agreed.

We shared the smoke, back and forth. Then he got aggressive again. As the blunt burned down, he took a deep inhale, dropped the weed into an ashtray, brought his thick, red lips to mine and shotgunned me. I took it right down, held it, passed a remnant back to him as I grasped his slimy, hard, long, thick cock and stroked it slowly, lovingly, feeling love now as the gangja took effect.

I bent over and licked his pee slit again, nursing up a bubble of his tasty pre-cum, rolled my tongue around his cockhead, and pushed my mouth down on his hard, black stalk. Up and down I moved, sucking his sweet cock. He started arching his hips up, fucking my mouth again. We kept at this until I felt his hard rod thicken even more, throb.

I pulled my mouth off his throbbing, sliming with more of his juices, super hard black tool.

‘You want to fuck my cunt?’ I asked. ‘Fuck me. Fuck my hole,’ I near demanded, then turned, bent over the arm of the sofa, arched my hips up, legs wide showing him my brown, crenolated ring by spreading my buttcheeks with both hands.

‘Ungh, fuck yeah,’ he grunted.

He got a condom – another leftover from the night’s party – off of the coffee table, peeled off the wrapper, and stretch rolled the lubricated rubber over his manhood, seating it firmly at the bottom of his long stick where it met his wiry pubes.

He spit into my crack, then saw the bottle of lube Astrogliude ™. He lubed his cock with it, squirted a lot right onto my puckered hole. He pressed his cock knob to my anus and shoved with his hips just as I had finished cutting a line of white powder, taking a straw off the coffee table – yet more leftovers from the party – and sniffing it up one nostril, the other.

‘Oooooh, gaaaaawwd,’ I expelled as his big dick breached my crinkled hole, ovaled it to fit his long, fat cock that slid balls deep into my bowels.

‘Unnnngh,’ I groaned.

He held still with his cock buried in me, leaned over my back and cleaned up the white powder with the straw.

His cock throbbed again, again deep inside me. He eased back, pushed in, pulled back, pushed in, while reaching around to stroke my hard, dripping dick and pinch my titties. He kissed the back of my neck, on my shoulders and fucked, plundering his cock into my mancunt.

I came a heavy load onto the sofa. He felt my rectal walls clenching, releasing, clenching, releasing as he pistoned his shaft into me, and came, filling the condom to overflowing as his cock throbbed in me, jerked and thrust deeper, harder, faster.

Oh it was good to get my plumbing fixed, the clothes washer filling just right.

We agreed he could come see to my plumbing anytime he wanted, needed to do so, and I look forward to his next visit.

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At certain angles, and especially early in the morning when the light is soft enough and he hasn’t been hardened by the day, Greg looks like a boy, a cute, sweet boy with a nose ring. Too bad he doesn’t feel comfortable enough to show that side to my friends he’s just way too defensive around them. But if they could only see that sweet boy face, and the timber of his voice when he says MattAttack (weird nick long story), soft almost a whisper because he doesn’t want anyone else to hear that he’s soft almost a whisper sometimes, and God do I feel privileged that I’m probably the only person he will be this way for.

If you ever want to see him at his best you would need to wake up with him. I’m the only one who can do that, but I can tell you about it, about him. Through all of swagger, and posturing, glares, huffs, slamming of doors he really craves contact. But he’ll never ask for it. He needs reassurance on the most basic of levels I know his family is a big part of that, they just never accepted him they live in their dream of who he should be, and what he should do. So there’s no talking about his real life in their house, and that deeply hurts him, because he can’t be himself. And I don’t know, but when he’s holding me all night which he does every night, it’s like he’s reaffirming that I’m there and we’re real.

I don’t know how many times I’ve woken up, a little short for air because I’ve got just about 250 pounds of a slightly damp, too warm (but just right) human comforter wrapped around me. Even though breathing is impaired, and I have to maneuver just a little, because when I do that earns me ‘a still sleeping no don’t move hug’. Sometimes it’s just a little aggravating when I have to get up to check my level or god forbid go to the bathroom, but squirming out of those ‘no don’t move sleep hugs’ can result in ‘yes move sleep/but I’m awake now keep squirming, isn’t it grand we sleep in the nude, we can do this blindfolded the dark is no matter because his hand–my dick, his mouth–my shoulder… are slip and slide because the dark and sweat remembers, and my body remembers too, and it’s that sweat, sometimes a little spit and that certain twitch my muscle memory opens… hugs’

Suddenly there is teeth on the back of my shoulder he bites soft to take away some sting, replacing sting with sting… but not all of it because his cock is where his two fingers were just a second ago…ahhh, and this is just my need for him when I push back, and he moves his hand from my ass and takes hold of my hip. His entry is one long pull on a cello the lowest notes, the lowest chord, the bow pulls straight and long, because the head of his cock is fat, and he’s in I am not breathing, his hand grips my hip to the bone, the bow has finished it’s arc on the cello and that note is ending his head pushes hard into the back of my head, his nose rubbing back and forth on my neck a hard nub foreign words, quick staccato are spoken just outside my ear…the bow is pulled back far and high, there is a throb before the thrust the head of his cock plumping and thumping, this is his heartbeat inside of me, the hand on my dick pulls, squeezing, and the bow razes the strings on the cello it comes down fast and hard, and this is Mozart on speed this is an insane cello solo, some kind of fucking orchestral bliss madness he is fucking me hard to hard, so fast and I can just see the cello player, playing as if the devil himself were sitting on his soul, he is sweating his eyes are closed hard… they could bleed he is closing his eyes so hard, and his arm on the bow is pumping the strings—sliding them across and around in a wicked fight, a needy desperation to make the cello groan and scream in beauty, and that other hand on the neck the hand on my dick is moving so fast, too fast, up and down fingers pressed at known points to produce the notes he wants to hear what Greg wants to hear…

After the first few lines of music… after the first few minutes of fucking Mozart, our crazy notes, the miracle that is this feeling of him trying to crawl into me by pulling out my soul this way settles from the insane beginning of first discovery, because my mad composer knows what beauty he can get from this instrument and he takes the journey slower. He removes his hand, because it’s not those fingers on the neck of the cello not his hand pumping my dick that going to end this piece, and make me cum so hard, fast, and two times quick because that’s what my mad composer does to me.

He and he alone, the way he is working my body over, that will make me cum. It does every time. Greg is big, but not huge; his cock is just enough and too much. It’s in his attempt to meet with me balls and ass, imprint his pulse inside of my core, and angle, pulling me back, and hitting low then up, he strikes that perfect note inside of me and the soles of my feet are burning, and my eyes are burning too. He will hit that perfect note ten times in a row, with each hit I am up and over that first rise on the roller coaster, up and over and again. Up and over, my balls are so tight, and Greg can feel this, because he’s in me he can feel me, so he bites the side of neck. One of his hands imprints his fingerprints (white, mad, and final) on my hip, and he goes around to the front, it’s his hand and my chest, his fingers, and my nipple rings.

I am flesh being pumped by flesh, I am metal and skin being pulled to bring that tightness up from my balls into a sting, a reminder that he is in control. My body is his; I am his instrument to play and work hard. He pulls my nipple ring hard, flesh threatens to break away from the force. It’s at that moment when teeth find the spot just under my ear the nipple ring is pulled quick and hard that he goes deeper. It’s a slight movement of the hips, eloquent and known, suddenly his pulse, the throb of life in his dick is rubbing against the bumps in my spine, and the top of his cock is hitting on the back of my throat. That’s what it feels like.

I am a puppet. I am connected at the feet, the hands, the knees, the elbows, my balls, my heart, and my dick by strings. And when Greg is deep, in and out of me deep, and slow like this, each thrust like the flourish on the end of a deadly debate. This. is. his. final. word.

The debate never ends. I feel all those strings pull in tight. It’s as if he is trying to make the puppet look as if he is dying pulling into himself like this, the soles of my feet burn so hard, and all these strings pull so tight, too tight, and the last string is the finger in my nipple ring. The master yanks it, my puppet head shoots back because it’s just been pulled like that, and these final strokes, fortissimo, he is no longer playing a cello, he is banging a drum.

I am being banged to death, because it feels like dying, because my brain is dying, and my dick has never been so hard; hurt so much, because it’s dying too. This is not fuzzy mallets on a tympani, this is my man fucking me, my man inside of me. It’s his cock, my ass is numb, but on the inside, I am pulling, inside by strings, by burning. The slaps sound violent like a domestic disturbance, but he is not hitting my outside, he is hitting my inside, fortissimo.

I go up the rise on the roller coaster one last time, and I come down in blindness, in white blindness that curls my toes. He stabs one last time. He pulls out; his head threatens to pop out, but at the last possible second when my balls are throbbing and the churning inside is just about to come out, he stabs one last brutal time, and I am hit by the train head-on.

I cum hot and long, his hands are bruising me, because he trying to make himself part of me. My devil in the flesh stirs 40 seconds later, and he is insane, but he awakens the rhythm, and he starts playing again.

I almost want to throw up, but it feels so good. Too good, and I don’t even feel it when the trigger is touched, because I cum again. This is when my composer leaves himself inside of me. He is German; he is saying German things.

He is groaning deep like a bear that just woke up, and his arms wrap around my middle, my ribs are sore from this embrace, they’ve just healed from being broken, but it’s his heart, that mad muscle trying to beat through his chest into my back. It is that sensation on my back, and the warmth, this healing stickiness sliding out of my ass, this is my master. This is my bliss.

This is what we did this morning. I am a boneless bunny, all white fur, pink nose, and perky ears. Greg is sitting here, as I’ve been typing this, and he has been petting me, rubbing my shoulders, the back of my neck. He’s just reading, silent, and sweet. I’m his boy.

We’re going to the desert, going to see some mountains. I suspect ha-ha, and that soft little kiss just then on the back of my neck has confirmed it. When I come back from the desert, I will be Greg’s boy forever, and he will be mine. In other words, we’re getting married, and I am speechless. But getting hugged around the middle just right like this… right now, it’s making typing difficult. And we’re getting such a late start, but he will be my husband. Oh my, that just hit me…

Cockwhore that I am I have been giving these two guys blow jobs on a regular basis. Actually I suck them, mouth their balls, rim them, and they often fuck my pussy mouth. Though different both of them have nice cocks. One is married and older, in his 40s. The other is single, 20-something-year-old.

The married guy’s cock is average – 5-6′ long, about 4′ around. The young single guy has a beautiful and rather unusual dick, at least for me. It is tapered at the head, broadening down the shaft especially from one side to the other, then tapering again at the root; larger than average – 7-8′ long and 5-6′ around.

I deepthroat both of them, taking their cockheads and part of their shafts all the way down, the remainder of their shafts covered by my mouth and lips right to their pubic hairs. They love me sucking them because I swallow their cum. Both cum so much I usually spill a little bit onto their hairy pubes – the nest of hair at the top of their cocks and on their fuzzy sacks holding their big nuts so full of cum for me. I lick up the spillage, swab their crotches clean, suck out the last strings or dollops of cum from their satisfied rods, and clean them with my lips and tongue.

They must like my cocksucking mouth. They keep coming back for more – the married guy for over a year now, the single guy for three months. All they have to do to get off in my mouth is email, IM, or call me. If I am not sucking or being fucked by someone else right then they can come right over for me to pleasure them all over with my lips, tongue, mouth and hands. If I am with someone else we – my two regulars and I – make a time within an hour or so for them to come get kissed, licked, sucked, mouthed, rimmed, jacked and feed me their cum. I don’t mean they come over at the same time, although I have suggested that. They come one at a time.

I have also suggested to each one of them that I would like to be fucked. Both have declined so far, the married guy saying he only fucks his wife, never in the ass, and she doesn’t suck or rim him. The single guy says he will fuck only bareback, without a condom, otherwise he loses his truly great feeling erection. I have declined to take him bareback in my manpussy ass because he is single. I would fell much safer with the married man barebacking me, but he has refused to do it.

That all changed Friday evening and Saturday morning. For the first time I went to a new bar in town, the bar known as a gathering place for men looking for action with other men. I had even heard there were some transvestites – crossdressers, and transsexuals frequenting the bar. So, again, a first time for me but a long time fantasy desire I dressed as a woman.

Soon after I had my first drink a young man sauntered over and sat on the bar stool next to me. He bought me a drink, and we chatted amicably. The talk soon turned to sex. He bought me another drink and another. He made it clear to me he was looking for some action. I made it clear to him as I was becoming more than a little bit inebriated that I was crossdressing and looking for some cock action, a man for me to suck and him to fuck me. As I enjoyed my fifth drink of the evening, the fourth one he had bought for me, I even lifted my skirt, pulled my panties aside and showed him my cock. He took it in his hand, felt and stroked it a bit, then invited me to join him outside in his six-wheel doolie truck.

As we walked to his truck he kept playing with my cock, balls, and fondling the fake tits in my bra. When we got to his truck he opened the back door and told me to get inside so I could suck him and him fuck me. I looked in and there sat another guy, his cock out through his fly and up hard as he stroked it. I turned around to tell the guy who had picked me up I had not reckoned on a three-way but it would be alright with me. The guy in the truck grabbed my arms from behind, and the asshole truck owner sucker punched me.

He got in one blow to the left side of my face before I freed my arms and proceeded to kick his ass. Driving him away from the truck I literally kicked him in the nuts. When he bent over I kicked him in the face, spun him around, kicked his ass knocking him unconscious to the ground and turned on the jerkwad in the truck. I drug him out of the truck and sent him in a few well-placed fists and feet kicks to join his partner on the ground.

I had figured immediately these turds were either trying to rob me or were bashers intent on hurting me. It turned out the other way for them. As they groveled on the parking lot pavement I picked up my low heel woman’s shoes that I had kicked off before using my feet on them, hiked up my skirt and walked home the short distance to my downtown apartment. When I got home I checked my face for damage and found I had a slightly puffy lip, and damn it all, a chipped front tooth.

As I lay on the sofa with a cold pack on my lip, sure enough, the married guy called me. He asked if he could come over for a blow job. I told him, ‘Sure.’ As usual he showed up in about a half hour. We got undressed, and I started working my mouth on him from his tits, across his belly, into his navel with my tongue, stroking his cock, mouthing his balls, rimming him, and went down on his cock kissing and licking it. I took his nice meat stick in my mouth to suck it and soon realized I could not cover the chipped tooth with my lip enough to keep from scraping his sweet cock with the bad tooth.

I pulled off of him and told him what had happened. He was all sympathy, but said he was real horny and wanted to get off somehow. I said, ‘Well, I can stroke your cock, or you can slide it up and down in my lubed asscrack, with a rubber if you prefer.’ He agreed with that idea, unwrapped a condom, and covered his cock. I bent over on the sofa for him and loved the feel of his hard cock riding in the cleft of my ass. I loved it even more when he asked me to spread my buttcheeks wide, open up for him, and he would finally after all this time, fuck my ass.

He worked the knob end of his cock against my crinkled, star-shaped ring and breached my tight sphincter. ‘Oh, yeah, do it,’ I breathed. ‘Fuck me. Fuck my ass.’ He pushed his cock slowly into me right to his balls, his curly pubic hairs tickling my crack. I backed against him, and we rocked right into the delicious fucking motion. He moved back and forth, in and out, me humping with him, him going on and on about how good it felt, until he finally after about 15 minutes pushed hard up inside me and filled the condom full of cum from his jerking, throbbing, swollen cock. He pulled out, peeled off the rubber. I turned around and cleaned his cock with my lips and tongue, being careful to keep the snaggled tooth off his sweet man pole that had just fucked me so good.

We sat and talked for a while. Finally he told me he wanted to fuck my ass again. So we did it one more time. As we talked after our second fuck he apologized for denying both of us that pleasure for so long. I assured him we could do it more, and that I would get my tooth fixed as soon as possible so he could fuck my mouth as well and me suck him as usual, but it might just be foreplay for us from now on since he enjoyed fucking me so much. I loved it too I told him, just as I knew I would.

I slept for a few hours until I was awakened by the ringing of my telephone. Sure enough it was the young guy wanting to be sucked off too. I told him right up front on the phone what had happened at the bar and in the parking lot, about the chipped tooth. I ventured on this may just be the opportunity you have been awaiting. I am as I told you before reluctant for you to fuck me bareback but you can ride your cock in the cleft of my ass and cum on my back or stomach. Or I will take your cum in my mouth.

He was at my place quicker than usual, and we undressed together in a flash, easy for me since I was only in pajama bottoms. His long, tapered, broad across the middle cock was up so hard he had some difficulty pulling his underwear over it. When he did, his raging rod flopped up against his belly reaching to his navel. I fondled and stroked it; cupped his big balls; kissed, licked and sucked his nipples; worked down to his navel; kissed and licked the head of his cock leaking pre-cum that I slurped up eagerly; mouthed his balls; licked his crack; and rimmed his hairy ass.

He told me to get on my knees leaning against the back of the sofa. Then he lubed my butt crack, his cock, and started sliding it up and down in my cleft while playing with my nipples, belly, navel and hard cock. Oh, that felt so good.

He always brought the best poppers with him, the true stuff only to be bought in Canada now. I sensed him opening the bottle, taking hits in each nostril. His cock erected even harder and leaked more pre-cum. Then he held the bottle to one of my nostrils closing the other. I sniffed. He switched the bottle to my other nostril and closed the one flooded already with the poppers. I sniffed again.

I felt the pungent chemical suffuse through my body, warming me in my chest, down through my belly, into my balls, cock hardening, my anus relaxing. He was still sliding his stiff meat up and down in my crack, then, ‘OH, OH, OH,’ his pointed cockhead entered me, ‘Aaaah, aaaah, oooh, ungh, aaah, unh, oh,’ his shaft slid right up into my welcoming hole. The broad, flat expanse of his middle shaft spread me like I had never been opened before, stretching my tight ass in all directions but mostly from side to side. I pushed back against him driving all of his cock up into me, opening my mancunt to take all of him.

He kissed, licked, nibbled on the back and sides of my neck, on my shoulders as he fucked back and forth into my yielding manpussy. ‘Oh yeah, yeah, fuck me, please fuck me,’ I begged him.

We did more poppers as he rode his cock back and forth in me, and I rocked with him, knowing secretly I would have never been able to take his big, thick cock unless I had been fucked just a few hours before by the married guy. I started cumming all over my sofa, the white creamy jism shooting out of the head of my cock, my ass clenching on this young man’s cock pummeling my fuckhole. I didn’t care right then if he filled me with his cum. I even wanted it, but he jerked his throbbing, swollen dick out of me and shot his load all up my back. The first shot hit me about the middle of my back, the second. The third spurted all the way up between my shoulder blades, another about half way between that one and the first two. Then another, another and another until only dribbles of his hot manjuice dripped onto the top of my asscrack. I rolled over to sit on the sofa and clean his cock and balls, his whole crotch with my mouth, using my lips and tongue carefully avoiding any contact with broken tooth.

He leaned forward and kissed me on the mouth, swabbing his tongue inside to taste his own cum. We snowballed it back and forth until he was hard again. He pushed his cock back into my gaping hole and fucked me a few more strokes. Then he asked if he could put on a rubber and fuck me until he filled it in my ass.

‘Unh, unh,’ was the only sounds I could make at first, then, ‘Yes, oh yes, please.’

He did it. He fucked me for a half hour, more, both of us using the poppers. Finally I felt his cock swell, throb, lurch, jerk, and the condom filling with his cum. He drove hard up into me, and we lay there locked together kissing mouth to mouth again. Then he grasped the end of the rubber and eased his shrinking cock out of my wellfucked hole. He rolled it off carefully, held it over my face, drained his cum into mouth, open like a bird taking food from its mother. I held his cum on my tongue and opened my mouth, showing it to him. We snowballed again. Finally it was gone, swallowed by both him and me.

I curled up on the sofa, pulled a blanket over me and lay there, both of us talking about how good it was, promising to do it from now on, as he got dressed and finally left me alone to fall back asleep, my ass still gaping and tingling, not sore but certainly sensitive. So now it is Saturday morning and I am laying here, dozing in and out of sleep and so looking forward to the next times with my married man or single guy.

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This is not a fantasy story but real life, having to do with my beautiful sexy wife who’s hot and horny and willing to please me in my kinky ways.

My wife, six years younger, has a very sexy body and dresses for my benefit. With tight skirts above the knee, revealing beautiful legs, you can see her skimpy bikini through the material. Knowing her sex appeal to men, she likes to tease and show off, often jerking me off at the same time. We play a game that runs as follows.

Before leaving the house she and I sit across from each other having a drink, with her legs crossed exposing beautiful thighs. She turns the subject to sex, asking me if I like what I see and will it get some guy’s prick up tonight. She runs her hand between her legs saying:

‘I’d like to jerk a prick so hard and long that I’d come.’ Especially while she moaned and squirmed against his body. Then her hand would rub my fly that contained a cock already hard from watching and seeing her. She unzipped me and and slipped my hard prick into her mouth.

Off in the car we go, her sitting close to me with her legs crossed and short skirt up high, revealing terrific legs, stocking tops and great flesh.

Into a gas station for a fill up, her hand on the inside of my right thigh, holding my cock, a seductive gleam in here eye as the attendant came to the window.

‘Fill her up,’ I’d say. Him not knowing I meant fill her up with your prick. Leaving for the men’s room, I knew what she would do. When the windshield was being cleaned, her body would shift toward him and, fixing her lipstick, her legs would spread to one side catching his eye. She’d wink and motion him over to her side. With her dress over well rounded knees and the low cut sweater showing beautiful tits, she’d say:

‘You’re cute. I bet you get plenty of pussy here.’ By this time the poor guy has a bulge in his pants, and her eyes are on it. ‘It looks big, honey.

Will you check the wire under the dashboard for the windshield wiper?’

While his head was under the panel and his body on his back on the floor board, he had a good glimpse of legs and hose. When she asked if he had room, her hand dropped to the bulge in his pants. She felt it getting harder, his body moving to her touch, she’s getting hot, knowing she was getting a prick hard and ready to explode, she slowly unzipped his fly.

‘Don’t worry, my husband won’t be back yet,’ she says, taking his prick out, moving her fingers up and down, feeling the throb of his cock, getting her pussy wet and ready for action.

‘Would you like to come, honey, all over my hand?’ He moaned yes and she slipped her magic fingers around his balls, feeling them getting hard and full of come. ‘It’s coming honey, nice white cream. Fuck my hand and let that come spray all over! Here it comes, baby, all over my hand and the seat! Keep going, you stud I may come back and you can stick it into me sometime!’

While he was shooting his load off, he jumped so hard he almost hit the dashboard, with his free hand sliding up and down her leg.

‘Boy, baby, I’d love to see you again.’ Sliding out of the car he saw me standing with my cock dripping from the come I shot off while she worked his cock to a climax. ‘Perhaps you will, if you keep your mouth shut,’ I said.

With that I got behind the wheel and drove off while my wife finger fucked herself and came in one big orgasm. ‘God, he had a nice cock and how I wanted it in my pussy! His come shot all over my leg and the floor, maybe we can get back to him again. I noticed you had a good time too.’ As I felt her dripping cunt so wet, we drove off for another conquest.

By now we were both worked up and horny, her hand in my pants and my right hand between her legs. ‘Oh god, I’m so hot, the itch in my cunt is driving me crazy suck me off, darling.’

‘Okay, baby, we’ll find someone up ahead on the expressway for you to suck. Some nice young stud that may not be too experienced. He may even suck your hot pussy.’

‘Oh Bob, pull off the road, kiss or at least finger-fuck me,’ she begged.

To the side of the road we’d go. While kissing and slipping my arm around her ass, she’d raise one leg up on the windowsill. Everyone passing knew what was going on-trucks could see in the window-and that leg was moving like crazy while I had my finger in her cunt. I had to go further and drop my head between her legs. I lapped and sucked her cunt till she exploded and screamed, ‘I’m coming, darling. Eat me, eat my pussy. Suck harder. Rotate that hard tongue of yours. Oh, you bastard, here I come. Suck it up, honey, boy, you are good!’

After licking all her come, I raised up to see a car parked behind us.

Seeing her sexy legs kicking, he must have come all over himself. To better conditions, we got out and she pressed against me, slipping her knees between my legs. While she was dry fucking me, my hands slid up her thighs and pulled her skirt with them, leaving a terrific view of nylon covered legs, long and sexy, being fondled by a hot man. We rubbed against each other and I cupped her ass in my hands, she slid her hand down to my fly. In her ear I whispered, ‘We have a fish, that guy behind us is slumped down in his seat.’

‘I’ll bet he’s hot and wet and must have come looking at us, honey. Let me put my foot on the seat and you finger me while I turn sideways, that way he will get a good view of my legs. Then pass close by his car, when you go to the restroom. I’ll signal if his cock is out and give him a smile.’

She regained her position and quickly walked to the car. With a sultry smile on her lips, she glanced in to see this middle aged man, head back on the seat, pants open and a limp prick in his hand. He saw the smile she gave him and undressed her as she went to the restroom. Killing time in the restroom, and hot as hell, she knew she wanted on more prick and this old boy was it.

I walked back to his car and asked directions for a city miles away. I told him my secretary and I were on a business trip for a few days. Also we had a few drinks and she was horny and hot. I said the one thing that drives her wild is to feel and play with a cock, getting it hard and knowing that the guy, feeling her legs and pussy, is ready to shoot all over her thighs.

When he saw that I could be talked to and trusted, he said, ‘I couldn’t help myself, while you were in the car I knew you had a hell of a time. But when she got out with those beautiful legs I couldn’t leave. So you can see what happened, I had to jerk off. My prick was so hard looking at you two making out that I had to jerk off. I’d give anything to rub my hands over her body and feel the silk stockings on those legs, put my finger in her pussy and make her come.’

Seeing the state he was in, I whispered to him. ‘She can sit with you for awhile. Feel her up and get your nuts off. She has a wonderful pair of legs and lips and a tongue that gets a cock full and hard. Be open and get her hand on your prick, she loves to feel it.’

‘Honey, this is Jim, going to California. He’s resting for about an hour and is lonesome. He did see us up front, why not sit with him. I told him what a hot and sexy secretary you are, I’m going to our car to rest, see you later, doll.’

My car is equipped with large mirrors. After adjusting them I slumped down in the seat and opened my pants.

After a few minutes I saw her put her left hand behind his back and move closer. I knew her legs were exposed to stocking tops and blouse open to expose the valley between her tits. Also her nipples were getting hard, knowing this guy was hot and hungry for her body.

Then I saw her turn his head toward her lips, kiss him long and hard.

Knowing her tongue was fighting his, while her hand crept down to his crotch and rubbed his prick. Her fingers wrapped around his shaft, getting him hard and her pussy wet. She leaned back against the door, letting her hand run over her long sexy legs. He then could not hold back, but had to feel those legs.

Running his hand over the thighs which were spread open on the floorboard, her skirt raised over her ass, she moaned with his fingers in her pussy. She humped up and down on his hand, getting wet and coming four or five times.

My prick, in my hand, hot and full of come, was ready, as his head disappeared from her tits, down her belly to the beautiful triangle of her pussy. Her head rolled back and forth on the window sill as he put his tongue into her cunt and sucked that hot moist pussy. Holding his head with one hand and rubbing his ear, the other arm reached out of the window to give me the ‘ok’ signal. Suddenly she jerked and cried, ‘Fuck me, suck me, tongue my pussy, you old bastard. Eat my cunt out and suck my come. Oh god, baby, here it comes, oh fuck, I’m coming. Ah-oh baby, I came all over your mouth!’

Just looking at the action made my prick hard and the come came out all over the seat. With my handkerchief I cleaned myself off, wiped the come up and waited for her to come back.

But instead I saw her lean over and knew she was going to blow him.

Slipping out of the car I sneaked up alongside to see her put her lips around his hard prick. He was so tired his head was back on the seat. She had his pants open and her free hand was holding his balls as her mouth and tongue were playing hell with his shaft from base to tip. Boy, was he a mouthful of cock for her. His hips were moving to match her mouth, moaning his passion in deep grunts as her tongue and lips engulfed his cock in her mouth. By now I was sitting on the rear seat behind them.

With Jim’s cock hard, she said ‘Now Jim baby, slip it in my pussy.’

Throwing her knees on either side of him, she guided his prick into her cunt.

‘Now it’s hard again, honey and you can fuck this sexy bitch. I am sexy, right, baby?’ She looked over at me and winked. At the same time, she looked down at my cock which was hard and stiff and ready to shoot come. Jim was out of his mind, holding her well rounded ass and humping like a jack rabbit. She pressed her tits against his face and while fucking him, reached over the back seat and grabbed my cock.

Looking me in the eyes with her sexy lips, she moaned, ‘Baby, I can’t hold out much longer. Fuck me, Jim, fuck me hard, push it in, baby. Oh hell, honey here it comes!’ With her hand holding my cock and jerking me off while Jim was fucking her, I came, she came and Jim flooded her pussy with his come.

She and I headed for home, her hand in my pants holding my prick and my hand between her legs feeling her pussy. She said ‘Darling, did you enjoy today? Are you hot and horny as I am? Because I had a ball. My cunt is still hot and dripping. You sure know how to get me off. Now let’s get home and to bed while we suck each other to sleep.’

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My black lover has an ashy-looking, grey film streaked and splotched on his body. So when we get together for sex I smooth baby oil all over his body – on his face, neck, shoulders, arms, chest, stomach, legs, the front and back of them, on his back, firm buttocks, in his crack. I wipe it down with a soft hand towel. Then he sheens, his black skin glistening, big cock up hard, leaking lots of pre-cum.

Since he is so ready he wastes little time with me. He wants me to kiss, lick, suck his nipples; kiss down his chest onto his abs, tongue his navel; kiss, lick, mouth his ball sack; kiss, lick his butt cheeks, lick his crack and rim his puckered hole; come back up and kiss, lick, suck his cock, take it in my mouth.

Once he has his cock in my mouth he fucks my face. He holds me gently by the back of my head, on my neck, and pushes his cock slowly, slowly, deep into my throat. He can sense when he has cut off my air and I am about to gag, choke on the big head of his thick meat. He can even see it bulging in my neck. He eases it back across my tongue, lips, and slides it back into my throat again, again, again. Over and over he fucks my mouth.

His slimy, tasty pre-cum, slick juice mixes with my saliva to lube his big, long, thick cock. I drool onto his cock, wiry pubic hairs, over his ball sack.

Some times when he is really horny, has not cum for a while, he shoots his thick, creamy, hot, white bolts of cum into my mouth. I gulp it down, swallowing. Hold some on my tongue, show it to him, smiling – both of us – and swallow, then show him my empty mouth. I clean his cock with my lips and tongue, get it hard again.

Then he pushes me onto my back, opens my legs, spreads them wide and puts his big knob end at my crinkled hole. Or he rolls me over onto my knees, ass up high, chest down, face sideways, mouth still tasting his precum or it and his load of cum.

Either way he forces his big cock into my puckered ring, ovals it, and slides it slowly up into my tight hole. He keeps pushing until it is seated all the way, his balls pressed against me. He pulls back slowly, oh so slowly flaring the flesh of my hole stretched around his big fuck tool until just the head is still in me.

Then, grinning at me as I smile back at him in ecstatic pleasure, or leaning over me and kissing, nibbling at the back of my neck, on my shoulders, he pushes his long, thick cock back into me.

He is aggressive with me. In just a few strokes he is pummeling my ass, pounding his cock into me. My little prick in comparison with his cock is bouncing up and down slinging my pre-cum then a steady stream of cum on me and him. As I shoot bolts of cum on my belly and chest if I am on my back, or onto whatever surface is beneath us when I am on my knees, my ass-pussy clutches at his cock, releases, clutches, releases, clutches again with each shot of my cum.

He loves that. He pushes his cock deep in me and holds it there feeling my man-cunt flex on his stiff rod.

Sometimes he fills me right away then with his large load of creamy cum, his cock growing even larger, throbbing, jerking and spurting his jism into me. Other times he rides out the flexing of my ass-twat on his big member. Then he fucks me more, slow, speeding up until he is slamming into me again and eventually filling my insides with his hot jizz.

He stays hard for quite a while then and fucks his cock into me in his own cum, forcing it out of my hole with sloppy, squishy sounds. I feel it burbling out of me, spraying around and sliding down the crack of my ass and onto my thighs.

When his cock-head starts tingling as he has told me it does, he pulls it out of my with a juicy plop and positions me as he wants me to kiss, lick and suck his cock clean. He swipes my cum up on his fingers and feeds it to me, making sure I show it to him and swallow it.

He stays about half hard. Gets even harder, then fucks me again. He usually takes my ass three or four times every time we are together. I can never get enough of his cock. Knowing that, he offers me to a friend of his, sometimes two, three or four of them.

After his first fuck in my hole it is gaping wide and reluctant to close. Seeing it in that condition, he shoves his cock in me, pulls it all the way out, puts it in again, and repeats that as I squeal in delight at each entry. His buddy, or buddies when he invites them to fuck me either do the same, or simply stick their cocks in me, get down tight against me and in me, and fuck me like the cock-whore that I am.

He always fucks me again after his buddy, or more of them have done me. Then he swabs the cum out of my hole and has me lick and suck it off his fingers. Sometimes he lets me lay most of the night with a man-cunt full of cum. We sleep, the cum oozing out of my hole. Then he mounts me again, his cock in my mouth, or he shoves it right up my ass and gives me another load before we have to go to work.

The weekends are best. From Friday night until Sunday he uses me with his cock or shares me with his buddies.

By Sunday evening I am exhausted. I douche my hole, shower and dress for work sometimes wearing a pad so the cum shot way up in me doesn’t leak out of me into my underwear.

I know since he really loves fucking me we will be together again soon, me cleaning the ashy, grey streaks and splotches off of his ebony body with the baby oil, wiping him down with the soft hand towel and him giving me his big cock so erect and oozing pre-cum by the time we finish that ritual.

I love it, and he does too.

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I can’t tell you the state I come from or the state I go to because the whole trip is slightly illegal. My pop owns a popular bar in my home state. It is a block away from the seat of government and the court house. We get lots of rich big shots who drink expensive booze.

That’t where I come in. Our state has a very heavy tax: the state I stock up at has almost no tax. Now I don’t waste time bringing in just any whiskey; no only the most expensive scotch.

My name is Toby. I’m twenty-one. I’m 5’10’, slightly hairy

chest, average, uncut dick. (I’ve been told it’s very pretty.) I have short light brown hair, tipped blond.

I had loaded up at (blank state) and was heading home. A trip of about fifty miles. I generally use back roads to avoid any road blocks that I might encounter. About half-way it was getting dark. I slowed down as the road I was on was really rough. A mile further I heard a loud explosion and the right front tire blewout sending it casing up in the air about twenty feet. I sighed and got out to get a spare. Luckily the spare was stored under the rear, otherwise I would have had to unload all that scotch. As the compartment for the spare came into view I saw that it was empty. My kid brother must have gotten a flat while out whoring and never mentioned that he used the spare.

I looked around and saw a small rough cabin on a rise about twenty-five feet away. I figured I would ask to use their phone and try to get some road service. I started toward the cabin then thought I better bring an offering. I opened the truck, slit open a case and took a bottle of sixteen-year old scotch with me. I knocked on the door and waited about a full two minutes before it was opened by an old man using a walker. He peered at me suspiciously until I explained my problem and said, ‘I’d like to offer you this scotch for your trouble.’ He licked his lips in anticipation. Then he called out, ‘Billy, come down here.’

There was a clatter of big feet on the rickety stares which shook the flimsy cabin. A kid about seventeen or so appeared in the doorway. He was at least 6’6′. He was cute but sort of dumb-looking (too many close relatives in his past.) The old man who I learned was ‘Gramps’ explained the situation, ending with ‘And he has a bottle of good stuff with him.’

Billy told me in his backwoods way that they had no telephone.

‘No one to call us and no one we hafta call.’ But he told me that his brother Beau would be back in the morning and he had a vulcanizing outfit in the barn and could probably fix the tire. Gramps told me I could stay the night and bunk with Billy since Beau was away that night. He put a skinny arm on me and urged me into the single room in the cabin which served as a livingroom. Both he and Billy watched eagerly as I opened the scotch. They provided no glasses but drink from the bottle.

We sat around, near the fire, passing the bottle back and fourth.

Billy seemed to have license to drink with us and kept up. Billy sat on the floor at our feet not talking, looking from one to the other as Grampus and I talked. This visiting lasted about two hours. I was getting pretty high and very sleepy. Gramps just slumped in his chair.

He was out. Billy meanwhile was as drunk as a skunk. His head was waggling and his eyes were red. ‘I think I better turn in,’ I said.

‘I’ll just get my bag from the truck.’

Billy mumbled something and said he’d see me upstairs. I carried my bag up to the one room loft. There was a low bed, pretty small for two. Billy lay naked on this back, his breaths coming hard and regular.

His long thin cock lay against one hip. He was dead to the world. I got undressed to my briefs and slipped into bed, my back to him. He moved closer and it was pleasant to feel his smooth young body against my back.

I was just slipping off to sleep when I felt him poking my butte.

He mumbled, ‘Hi Beau.’ He must have thought I was his brother. He insinuated his now hard cock just below my balls. He was so long that it poked out in front of me like a second penis. Feeling devilish I began lightly stroking him. Suddenly he sat up in bed. ‘You’re not Beau.’

Then he remembered me. He looked at my now stiff cock, leaping with my pulse. ‘Dang it. I got you all sexed up. I’m truly sorry. I’ll just have to fix that up.’ He got out of bed, knelt down next to me and took my cock in his mouth. I’ve had a few blow jobs in my life but none was a exciting as this one. He nursed on my dick like it was a teat. Slowly licking and gently sucking. I began crooning loudly. I wasn’t afraid anyone would hear me. Gramps couldn’t make the stairs even if he woke up which was unlikely. He began humming at his work, sending shivers down my back. He was so loving, petting my belly, stroking my chest. I gradually felt myself being down into a cyclone of sensation. I stiffened and my cock seemed to draw into itself then extend and become harder and I shot cum like a water canon.

‘Was that a good one,’ he asked. ‘The best a said. Do you want to cuddle a bit?’ I hardly finished the sentence when he feel deeply asleep. Well, I thought, we still have the morning.

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He was lying there in the white softness of flash light. Naked out of sleep, we had wakened. The other guys had wakened too at the sound of some dog or a car passing. The smell of the green tent filled my nostrils. The dark dampness of grass and dew on the dark early morning summer sleep over in my back yard.

So we had played with each other’s private parts, game like and fun. No one really taking notice of our horseplay. Just exploring and having fun. But then I saw David in the light powered by batteries. I saw him as if for the first time. Certainly it was the first time my eyes saw him naked. I sucked in the air and let it out of my lungs. The perfect whiteness of his middle, traced with the darker lines and area from suntanned baseball playing. His eyes were closed and the short dark curls of hair cupped his face.

His cheeks red in the pattern like a torn piece of construction paper. Blood flowing through the small vessels of his cheeks. I thought it meant shame. My cheeks had always turned red when I was in the wrong. Then I knew that his body was ready for his first sex. The blood again pumping and his penis rising, though he could not see it through his heavy long lashed eyelids. What he was thinking, I could not know. Thinking of being touched the way guys touch themselves in the dark under the sheets. Thinking of how wonderful it is to change hands to feel the strangeness of another way of hand, attached to another body stroke his crotch.

I could not come to think that he might be thinking of me. Last, I would think that I could be the beautiful one that makes the skin draw taut and gorges a male member with every bit of fluid from his body. For I was thinking of his beauty. Perfect skin, I loved the creases. The hollow inside his thigh between his knee and torso. The dimples in his but, now hidden, but seen through tight jeans that he wore at play, I had seen him. Not admitting noticing him, now I took him into my senses. I reached out and traced the deep lines from his outer hip pointing, arrow like to meet under his testicles. And I pointed my finger straight into the niche of his navel. I felt the smoothness of his hard dappled stomach.

Then quickly I grabbed his penis in my mouth. He looked impassive but leaned his head back to take on the beatific look of quiet pleasure. I sucked like I was a child at my mother’s nipple. The hard sucking of one that wants what can be given at that spigot. Not just anything but everything, his musky man smell, the texture of his skin in my mouth, the touch of his hips under my hands.

I did not hear the tittering, my mind was full of David. My lips slipped up and down over him. Time was stopped and I could have gone on forever. Then, his back arched a bit. I felt all his muscles go tense. His movements scared me, I did not know what to expect from his mild convulsions. I backed off just to see the lights pointing at the head of his dick. There he shot into the air pumping spurts of white. I was startled, I hadn’t seen it before, and never done it myself. I just creamed in the night never this fountain display.

Then I heard the titters. My cheeks got red in shame. I don’t know why, since my pleasure was great. David’s eyes remained shut. I had a strong desire to suck up all of the white and wash his weannie with my mouth. I returned to my sleeping bag and looked at the tent roof. Feeling what I had done and witnessed.

I never talked to him again. The shame and sound of ‘fagot’, ‘cock sucker’ and others haunted me. It was cruel, I cut him off from my friendship because of my shame. I could not come to terms with what I had done. My only lasting regret was that he might think me heartless and mean. In truth, for that moment , in that instance, I loved him, �David.

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I believe the world is not divided between man and woman; gay and straight, rich and poor etc. rather it is divided between the weak and the strong; the one who gives orders and the one that takes orders. It’s the Yin and Yang of creation. Don’t feel sorry for the submissive one; no, he loves his inferior position. It is not necessarily sexual but often to gain control, one must dominate sexually.

That’s lots of talk. Now let me show you from my life. I am 24 years old. I’m six feet three, blond, weigh 250 lbs. I’ve pretty imposing. In addition I’m very good looking in a manly way. I have a natural dominant leadership style and I have never had any problem bending others to my will.and they were happy with the arrangement and begged for more.

I run a landscaping service. I have three crews going at all times and I deliver them with the equipment at the various homes and then pick them up after an hour. They are expected to be finished at the site in one hour, or else. I recruit my workers from high schools and local colleges. They are naturally about 18 to 20. I look for jocks and post my notice for new workers in the gyms. Jocks are best because the have the strength and the ability to take orders (thanks to the coaches.) In addition, jocks like outside physical work to keep up their bodies during the summer and after school during the year.

There is a large turnover because the kids graduate or get better jobs. Therefore I am interviewing someone almost all the time. This particular day (not untypical) I was waiting to see a Jeff McNally. He showed up, knocked politely on the frame of the open door. He was a typical high school jock: muscular, wearing an athletic shirt and short shorts. His smooth forearms and shoulders were exposed and looked strong and sexy. He was a good looking dude: nice open face, short cut light hair and nice blue eyes. I immediately grabbed the upper hand. ‘Come in Jeff. Close the door.’ That was two orders to soften him up. He jumped to comply. My strong tone of voice confused him and I could see his eyes slightly glazed and a spot of color on his beardless cheeks. I got up and purposely allowed his letter of application to slip from my hand and onto the floor. ‘Get on your knees and pick that up,’ I commanded. This was the final test. If he objected, then I would ease off. I might still hire him but it wouldn’t be as much fun. He started to get up after retrieving the paper. ‘I didn’t tell you to get up. Crawl over here and give it to me.’ He paused a moment, sighed and began crawling on his knees toward me. ‘You are a nice doggy,’ I said, scratching his hair behind his ear. The boy breathed audibly and rubbed his face against my hand. ‘Nice doggy. Come here.’ He crawled until he was at my feet. I took his head and pushed his face into my crotch. ‘Smells good, doesn’t it?’ The boy mumbled and continued to sniff and rub me.

He was not sexually aroused but he was getting something he wanted: orders from someone; a chance not to think, but obey.

‘Jeff, boy, open my zipper.’ He was breathing hard from

confusion and a new sense of sexual excitement. This was something forbidden but made OK because I ordered it. He opened the zipper. My cock was already lengthening because I get off on a kid’s submission.

‘Kiss the end of my dick.’ He looked up at me questioningly. ‘Yes boy, it’s OK, I’m ordering you to.’ He kissed my pisshole. He moaned because of the unfamiliarity of this action. ‘Lick!’ He put out his smooth tongue and licked the head, then warming to his task, he licked the whole shaft. ‘That’s a good boy. Now open your pretty lips and take my cock inside.’ Again Jeff hesitated, looked up at me. I slapped his cheek lightly. ‘Learn to take orders boy!’ He sighed and took my dick in his mouth. His mouth began to water and I could see saliva dripping down. He slipped me deeper. He was almost again my hairy pubes. ‘Now suck gently.’

He was very gentle; almost loving. It was an excellent suck. I knew I’d have him for my pleasure anytime. He was loving it. I noticed he opened his pants and took out his very long cock and began pinching and stroking it and pulling on his balls. That was good because he will remember this as pleasurable. ‘I think I’m going to come.’ I lifted his chin and looked into his face. His eyes were closed, his mouth still puckered for sucking. ‘You want my sweet cream don’t you.’ He opened his eyes and looked at me. There was complete defeat in them. He nodded humbly. ‘OK a few more deep sucks and I ugh, ugh aaah.’ My whole body vibrated and I began shooting. He couldn’t take it all. I could see his own cock shooting on the floor as well.

‘Jeff, you got the job.’

‘Do I have to do this again?’

‘Do you want to?’

He stared in my eyes and then he said softly ‘Yesss.’

Well I had some good fun with Jeff and a few other of my pets over the next few months. Not all the kids I hired were submissive.

It’s interesting that some of the most easily conquered ones were very aggressive away from me and could dominate their work crews if they had to.

A few months later, one of my kid broke his leg in a motor cycle accident. Again I was in the market. I check over some of the applications and picked out one at random. His name of Raul Lopez. I noticed that he was a star pole vaulter. ‘Maybe he can vault my pole,’ I laughed to myself. The day of our appointment Raul came in, no knock, just sat down on the other side of the desk. He was a bit cheeky. Let’s see if I can tame him. I began asking him the usual questions. He was a very attractive kid, tannish Latino skin. wearing a short tee shirt which exposed his belly and low slung black pants. He had a tattoo of a knife dripping blood on his slim but muscular upper arm. His exposed stomach was smooth and glossy. I found myself looking at it. He had fine features and a shock of black hair. His most arresting feature was his eyes: they were coal black and crackling fire, set in put whites. His smile was very confident and he displayed gorgeous white teeth framed by the most beautiful puffy lips I had every seen.

I tried to pull myself together and gain control of the

interview. ‘Do you think you have the strength to do this landscape job?’

He laughed and moved right up to my chair. ‘ I’m slim but I’m strong. Here feel these pecs.’ He lifted up his cutoff shirt and exposed a nice set of pecs and tight muscled stomach. His nipples were dark brown and seemed to be erected.

I leaned forward and felt. He was so smooth. I looked up. He was smiling encouragingly. ‘Lick those nubs.’ I leaned forward and stuck my tongue out. They were hard, like little cocks. His body smelt intoxicatingly: sweat, sweet and a little rancid. He looked down at my lap. My large penis was sticking up in my nylon shorts. ‘ You like making Raul happy, don’t you?’ I nodded dumbly and would agree to anything as long as I could continue to sniff and lick him. ‘Let’s have fun. I’ve got my trusty Vasoline tube. Here, let me help you.’

He lifted me out of the chair. He was a strong kid. He turned me around and bent me over the desk and in one motion, pulled down my shorts. I wasn’t wear anything underneath. ‘A nice, white, gringo ass.

Some fuzzy hair, but we’ll forgive that.’ He leaned forward, greased my hole and entered part way in one single coordinated move. I let out a groan of surprise and a little pain. ‘Hang in there Baby. You are going to love this.’ He eased a few more half inches in. I felt better. In fact my cock which had retreated, began to rise and press against the desk. ‘Oh yeah, one more magic inch and we’ll be home and you will cry when I pull out.’ He began lightly slapping my ass and I opened up and he was there. I felt like I was filled beyond my capacity. He began to slowly move, in and out, panting against my back.

I heard myself say. ‘Fuck me Raul. I’m almost ready to come.’

He began slamming me, my cock was rubbing against the desk. Suddenly he yelled something and I could feel his spunk inside me and I shook and came.

‘That was very nice, boss man,’ he said. ‘Of course I got the job. Yes?’

‘Yes,’ I said weakly.

Now I’m not so sure that we are, each one, exclusively dominant or submissive. I guess some dominants haven’t met Raul.

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